Ill-Equipped
by flairina
Summary: The creed of the shards is to promote conflict and overcome challenge, allowing for growth and innovation. One particular shard sees the chance to epitomize this, and so Taylor Hebert triggers with a power that seems hellbent on making her life difficult.
1. Complications 1-1

AN: If you were wondering about the inspiration behind this, it was primarily the fic Heels Over Head. I read most of it, but couldn't really get in to it due to Taylor's power simply making things too easy, essentially being defined as "counter enemy shard". Taylor doesn't need that, and it feels almost insulting to her character to imply otherwise. But I still liked the idea to some extent, so I thought about it, twisted it, and...

* * *

 _-One Week After the Locker-_

Monday. The very first day of my return to school. While I hadn't exactly been optimistic, I'd hoped that maybe the fact that they'd recently laid me up in the hospital would convince my tormentors to lay low for a while.

...I really should've known better. I back away as Sophia and Emma slowly advance on me, their movements steering me towards the top of the stairwell. I can see Madison standing ready at the bottom, holding a container full of... _something_ to pour on me when I inevitably end up forced down to her level.

Of course they weren't going to take it easy on me. Just because I was laid up in the hospital for days by their last effort, why would that mean anything to them?

Sophia steps forward, a malicious looking sneer on her face, and for a second I wonder if their goal really is to outright kill me.

-and then a flood of information cascades into my mind. All of a sudden, I'm completely aware that I can produce a dull, gray, strangely immaterial type of mist from any opening present on my body. Outside forces won't affect it, nor will it affect them. The thicker or denser the mist, the harder it will be for any living thing, myself included, to enter or pass through it. It will revert to the properties of normal mist if I get too far away from it. It can be shaped, condensed, twirled, expanded...

What is- how do I-

I don't get the time to think about it much longer, because at that point Sophia weakly shoves me, trying to urge me down the stairs. Still dizzy from the abrupt influx of knowledge, I topple completely.

* * *

I don't think the trio had been expecting me to let myself be pushed. At the very least, they hadn't thought I wouldn't even attempt to move or break my fall, because when I wake up in the nurse's office, I find that I don't appear to be covered in whatever was in that container, nor is my bag or its interior. Maybe they figured it was pushing even their luck to be potentially caught at the scene of the second major incident to befall me in the span of two weeks. Hopefully I won't need to be hospitalized again.

At the moment, I don't even know if I care. I'm fairly certain I somehow gained powers, _superpowers_ , on those stairs. Which would mean I'm a parahuman, and I suddenly have an awful lot to think about.

Thoughts of all the research I need to do fly through my mind. I know relatively more about parahumans than people who just paid nominal attention in history class, but if I now am one then it almost certainly isn't enough. Is this really happening? I feel exhilarated, and terrified, and not a little _angry_ , what the hell am I supposed to feel or think about this, god my head hurts right now, how did I only just notice that-

Further thought on the matter is mercifully put on hold, as the nurse notices my state of wakefulness and decides to check on and inform me of my injuries.

Fortunately, it seems I didn't break anything during the fall, getting off with a massive bruise covering most of the left side of my body and possibly a light concussion. Not that any concussion can really be treated as "light", but considering how badly I vaguely remember landing at the bottom of the stairs, it's easy to think how it could have been worse. As I don't seem to be slurring, dizzy, or nauseous, instead -merely- possessing a massive headache, I'm going to go ahead and count myself lucky.

The nurse flatly tells me that there is approximately zero chance of my being able to do any schoolwork like this, whether I have a concussion or not. Thus I'm being sent home for the day, my dad having already been called to come pick me up. Great. More for him to worry about, and this right after the locker. I wasn't even back for a full _day_. Though, on the plus side, if I do have a concussion then I also have a legitimate reason to not come to school again for a little while.

...the fact that I almost prefer the idea of a brain injury over having to come to school says a lot about the current state of my life. A revelation I immediately decide not to dwell on, if at all possible.

I haven't forgotten about my power, but with the nurse in the room I can't really test anything yet. Just thinking about it is making me antsy, despite the headache, so when she finally leaves the room for a moment I don't waste any time.

Quickly checking to make sure I'm alone, I reach for the power in the way I somehow know exactly how to do, and-

...It's gone.

What the _hell_?

* * *

I have no doubt my dad was utterly furious upon receiving the call from the school, as after the locker incident he could pretty easily surmise that this was no accident. By the time he arrives though, he just looks worried and worn down. It's as if he aged five years during the drive over. It doesn't help that when he tries to hug me, it just makes me cry out in pain, which leads to him walking me to the car acting like I'm some piece of fine china, supporting my shoulder and watching me as if I might shatter in to pieces at any moment.

I'm not going to, but I can't really object to the support.

As we drive home, he talks to me in brief snippets about inconsequential things, obviously trying to keep his anger in so as to not explode in front of me again, instead focusing on trying to cheer me up. A nice gesture, but a wasted effort on me at the moment. The conversation drifts by me in a haze, either due to the potential concussion, or because I'm too focused on figuring out what happened to the powers I'd had, and then just as suddenly not had.

It doesn't make any sense. Powers don't tend to just up and leave, at least not so far as I'm aware. So what happened? Did I just have some sort of ultra vivid daydream on those stairs?

No, that doesn't seem right. I still remember what I could have done when I had it, as well as _how_ I could have done it. I just can't do it now. The knowledge is way too detailed, too... instinctively _ingrained_ in me now to have just been a hallucination. So is this something built in to the power itself then?

...I have absolutely no idea. But it's easier to focus on this than to think about anything else right now. I sit back and try not to think about the inevitable talk I'll be facing once we get home.

* * *

As expected, the first thing my dad does after we arrive is sit me down on the couch, and seat himself on a chair across from me.

"Taylor, do you feel well enough to tell me what happened?"

His voice quavers a bit at the end, maybe worried that I'll say no, and leave him wondering why. Maybe he's right to be. After I babbled it out last week under the influence of painkillers, there's no point in trying to hide that I'm being bullied. But I haven't yet told him by who.

Still, my reluctance to do that doesn't stop me from explaining the general gist of what happened today. Considering my current state, I know he's not going to just let that go.

I briefly summarize the event for him, keeping it as short as possible and leaving out the part about my powers. I need to figure out more about them first, and it's not as if I can prove it isn't just the concussion speaking right now, since my powers seem to be missing at the moment.

Once I finish, he leans back, put his fingers across the bridge of his nose, and lets out a heavy sigh.

Then he stands, walks into the kitchen, and starts dialing a phone number.

"Dad, who are you calling?" I ask.

"Your principal." he replies, a forced calm pervading his voice.

"No, dad, that's a bad idea." I say hurriedly. He already blew up at Blackwell once last week, over the phone back at the hospital, but she'd already disliked me even before, and that certainly hadn't helped. A repeat of that incident is just going to make things worse. As much as I don't see how I can possibly receive _less_ support from the staff than I do now, I'm not willing to bet that through sheer force of spite she won't somehow find a way.

"I'm not calling to argue with her or tell her off. I'm calling to inform her that you are not going back to that school."

His voice is hard, set with determination. But as nice a thought as never returning to Winslow is, it's a pipe dream. He knows that.

"Dad, please don't. I don't have any choice." I mumble.

"They promised to look after you." he growls, sounding as though it's coming through clenched teeth. "It took all of half a day for them to break that promise. I _knew_ they were going to, but like you said, we weren't given any choice."

His fingers grip the phone so hard I can see the veins popping out of his skin. He's trying so, so hard not to be angry in front of me again, after last week...

Dad whirls around to face me again. "But I can't send you back to a place where they let this sort of thing happen. I won't." His voice cracks, choking back emotion. "Taylor, I can't spend every day you're at school worried that I'm going to receive a phone call telling me your _corpse_ was found after a supposed 'accident'! If you don't want me to call your principal, I'm calling the police! This bullying is clearly bad enough that they should be involved!"

"No dad, you can't..." I start, before trailing off.

"Why not, Taylor?!" he pleads, clearly desperate for some sort of explanation.

But I can't give him one. In order to explain my reasoning, I would have to tell him just how bad the situation really is. Even if anyone else had been at the scene today, no one in the school would testify that I had been pushed, either for fear of invoking the trio's wrath, or because they just don't care. Meanwhile, my tormentors have an entire legion of followers to back up whatever story they can come up with, so any investigation would doubtlessly find itself inundated by classmate testimonials to my clumsiness, along with several glowing reviews of Emma, Sophia, and Madison's collective character. Even if we did somehow manage to get a fair investigation, we'd have to fight a court case against both the school and Emma's dad, which could only end badly for us, and would mean revealing who the leader of the campaign is...

So instead I just sit silently on the couch, stonewalling my dad and feeling horrible about it. When I fail to respond, he seems to crumble in on himself, which only makes me feel worse. I knew he wouldn't push me to give up something I want kept secret, and wouldn't try to fight for something I don't want. Normally I appreciate that, but right now it just feels like I'm taking advantage of him.

"Just... get some rest, alright?" he finally says, the utter defeat in his voice hitting me like a physical blow. "It's early, but you're hurt. We can talk about this tomorrow."

He seems just as aware as I am that nothing will have changed by then.

"Sure, dad... sure."

I stand and limp up the stairs to my room, hoping I didn't just make everything that much worse.

* * *

The next morning sees us avoiding the subject like the plague, pretending everything is normal as we make and eat breakfast. I'm not going to school today due to my injuries, but thankfully I'm not actually feeling that bad overall, my spirits being buoyed by the thought of what I can do with the day off.

Dad seems unsure about leaving me alone for the day at first, but since I'm only injured, not crippled or unconscious, after a few minutes of assurances he seems to accept it and leaves for the union. A few minutes later, I throw on a jacket and step out the door as well, walking in the direction of the nearest bus stop.

I'm heading to the library. Dad probably wouldn't approve, given that I'm supposed to be resting right now, but I need to get some of my questions answered, and an unlimited, fairly speedy internet connection is pretty crucial if I plan to spend hours on this. Aside from there being a lot of things to look up if I'm going to be a hero- something I'm tentatively hopeful is in the cards- I absolutely need to check online and see if anyone else has ever had problems with their powers the way I currently am.

It had only been one in the afternoon yesterday when we got home, so I'd had plenty of time alone in my room to try to figure out ways to make my power come back. I still felt fairly certain I hadn't just imagined it, but nothing, absolutely nothing I'd attempted had made it show up again. Feeling and flexing my way around my brain, trying to get in to the same frame of mind as when it had happened, trying to just plain use the power the way I _knew_ it should work; all had failed in turn, along with a slew of other attempts. Admittedly, I hadn't exactly been feeling particularly inspired right after the discussion with Dad, but I honestly wasn't sure what else to try past a certain point.

I slipped into doubting again for a while, but no, I'm still next to certain- I know exactly what the power did, and exactly how to use it. I _had_ a power. Whether or not I _still_ have it is what's currently up for debate. Either way, having my own experiments fail time and time again is beginning to drive me to despair, so I figure it's perhaps time to get some outside perspective, rather than try floundering on my own forever.

I'm not quite ready to give up on the first thing that's given me any sort of hope in over a year. Not just yet.

* * *

The library isn't _that_ far away, so thankfully for my patience it isn't long before I'm sitting down at a computer and searching the web for as much information on powers and parahumans as I can. I've always been a bit of a cape geek, but until now I've usually been more interested in the individual heroes and villains of the world than powers themselves, so I still have a lot to look up.

As I quickly find out, PHO is a surprisingly good resource for accurate information on parahuman related subjects. I immediately locate stickied posts containing a copy of the power classifications list, a summary of the options available to the newly empowered- from which the absence of villainy only makes the option that much more obvious-, an in depth general overview of most other topics related to powers, and a wealth of other information. Apparently, since a lot of actual capes use the forum, the site is kept well maintained and (relatively) troll free. The moderators do good work.

The first thing I do is quickly set up a new account, since I've never actually properly made one before, despite absently browsing the site more than a few times in the past. Immediately after, I create a new topic, asking if there's ever been a case of someone losing their powers, or if there are any known powers that seem to vanish at times. With any luck, given that vague description of the problem, someone will have an answer for me.

Once that's done, I turn my attention to something else that's been bugging me- I still don't know how I suddenly (hopefully) obtained powers. I don't know how anyone gets powers, honestly. Having grown up with capes being the norm, it's one of those things you question early on in life, and then forget about once your dreams of actually being one fade from memory. Since that's rather pertinent to me now however, it qualifies as a major point of interest.

Searching the forum for questions on the topic seems to turn up the phrase "trigger event" a lot, with not a great deal of description concerning what that actually _is_ , besides something that lets someone gain powers. Apparently boards that do more than mention the term get shut down a lot by the mods, for whatever reason. Looking elsewhere online for this proves to be the trick, as I quickly manage to find a website with a summary on the subject.

Trigger events, or triggers, are generally described as happening only in severely traumatic situations. Research concerning the exacts is spotty, but they apparently usually occur when a person is caught in some sort of inescapable crisis, be it mental or physical, or a situation in which they feel utterly helpless to prevent something.

I frown. That doesn't really make sense in my situation, at least not on the stairs. Sure, the trap had seemed inescapable, and I certainly felt helpless at the time, but only the fact that it was the first thing they'd tried since the locker really makes it stand out in my mind from all the other "pranks" they've pulled. There had to be hundreds before that where it was the same sort of situation, and I didn't trigger then. Heck, I hadn't even fallen yet when I felt the power come to me, and I certainly feared more for my life back when I was trapped in a standing coffin of biohazardous waste than-

Hmm. Come to think of it, I can't remember much about the locker, horrible as it was. All I really recall is being overwhelmed by my senses before falling unconscious for an unreasonably long amount of time. So long in fact that even when the smell finally persuaded a janitor to open the door, I purportedly fell out of it like a stiffened corpse. Said fall ended up contributing to a minor bone fracture that extended my hospital stay by a few days.

Being out of it for that long is... not normal. Maybe I triggered then, and just didn't realize it? I certainly don't remember it if so. Was that why I was unconscious for so long? I'm not sure if its even that important, but it kind of annoys me that I don't know.

Figuring that it's pointless to fixate on something I have no way to test, I move on, spending my time looking up various things I imagine might be helpful to know. Chief among these is a review of the various capes of Brockton Bay, both hero and villain, as I try to commit them to memory for future reference. Some don't have much information on them available, and some that do I already know everything that's listed, but if I'm going to be involved in the local cape scene in any capacity whatsoever, then I need to be as prepared as possible for what I'm planning on walking into.

I'm almost tempted to start looking up what names are taken, but after debating it for a minute I decide to hold off until I know more about my powers.

...assuming they come back, that is.

Around lunchtime, I start to get the feeling that the librarian on duty is getting annoyed with my being glued to their computer all morning. I've caught several glares aimed in my general direction at this point- the fact that I'm here during school hours probably isn't helping. Without any context, I suppose it does look sort of bad.

Oh well. I need to go home and eat anyways.

I do a quick check of the board I made- only three responses thus far, none of them particularly helpful- and leave for home. Hopefully, I can get a little more accomplished with my power testing than I managed yesterday.


	2. Complications 1-2

It is now Wednesday, and I have gotten literally no further power testing done whatsoever.

In the excitement of finding out I was a parahuman, I'd forgotten that I was a week behind on schoolwork. I only remembered when I spotted my backpack lying forlornly in the corner of my room after coming home yesterday, and from then on it was a frenzy of paper and pencil until nighttime came. It was utterly exhausting, not to mention disappointing, and worst of all it was probably pointless, since barely half my homework seems to make it to my teachers anymore.

I move along slowly, each step feeling as though I'm slogging through mud. I'm not sure I'd call it fortunate, but while I'm still bruised, the headaches haven't shown any sign of reappearing, which means I probably don't have a concussion after all. While that's obviously a good thing, it's still a bit of a bittersweet pill to swallow, since it also means I have no excuse not to go back to Winslow today. Hence my current trudge towards the bus stop.

Dad, in a bizarre reversal of roles, actually asked me to stay home again today, though I suppose I should have expected it given just how worried he is for me right now. But while I understand where he's coming from, I have to go. Even after spending all of Tuesday evening on it, I'm still far behind on my schoolwork, and the trio has been actively sabotaging me on top of that. If I keep missing school, I really will just flunk out, and I'm not willing to let myself be forced down that path.

Instinctively, I know that it's dumb to insist on walking back into Winslow, the hellhole that calls itself a school where I just received a major injury, especially when I've been explicitly given explicit permission to not do so. But I'm still doing to do it. I'm not beaten yet, and I refuse to let them _win_ like that.

...no matter how much the dread in my stomach seems to grow with each and every step I walk forward.

I sink into a sort of waking trance to distract myself, deciding to focus on my current plans for the future instead of the next few hours ahead of me.

I want to be a hero. I've known that it's what I would do if I ever got powers since I was what, four? I can't count the number of times I pretended to be Alexandria back when Emma was still my friend, and we were both still young enough for that. It's every kid's dream to get powers at some point, a phase that pretty much everyone goes through. Now, I can actually fulfill those previously impossible aspirations. I can be a force for good; help raise my city up from the quagmire of villainous muck that it can never seem to escape. In turn, I can escape from being attacked, torn-down Taylor Hebert and be someone else. Someone with no connections to my real self, who other people might even look up too after a time, if I'm successful.

Unfortunately, I never really thought about the logistics of all this during those childhood daydreams. Yesterday's research really hammered in the fact that independent heroes do not tend to last long. The solution to avoiding that generally seems to be "don't be an independent hero", but that's where I ran into a stumbling block. Namely, that there are only two heroic groups in Brockton Bay, and I can't go to The Protectorate- at my age, I'll get stuck joining The Wards, a prospect that does not appeal to me in the slightest. I'm trying to get _away_ from the whirling dervish of teenage drama and conflict I find myself trapped in most days, not walk into the superpowered version of it. Not to mention, given how the villain situation in the city consistently fails to improve, I don't have high hopes that their system works any better than Winslow's does.

The only other option however, New Wave, is a family based group. I don't even know if they accept new members, to be honest. More importantly, their founding principle of revealing one's identity to the public is even more off-putting to me than The Wards, especially since it previously directly resulted in the death of a member. Which means in the end, I don't really have much choice but to strike out on my own, and hope I can make a difference that way. Which is extremely, extremely dangerous, on top of the fact that this is something of an inherently dangerous profession to begin with.

...of course, this is all with the assumption that my "power" wasn't just a one time thing- a one time thing I didn't even get to use, at that. More and more I find myself worrying that it was, or that it really was just some sort of stress-induced delusion. I don't like what the latter implies, and I still hold to the resolution that the information I have now is too detailed to be imagined, but I also realized last night that even if my power is real, all this planning is for naught if I can't actually _access_ it...

So preoccupied am I with thinking about this that I don't even realize I've stepped into the street. Or rather, I don't up until the blare of a horn sounds in my ear, and I turn to see a car bearing down on the lane I'm currently stepping into.

Time seems to slow down. My heart leaps into my throat while something rushes into the center of my head- wait, my powers are back?! No, this is different, this isn't the mist, this is something that speeds up objects in my direct focus-

The car blitzes past me at almost triple the speed it was initially going, barely missing me in its 90 mile per hour rush as I shriek and fall backwards onto the sidewalk.

...and evidently it's currently ON. That sure would have been nice to know _before_ I almost got run over.

I quickly squeeze my eyes shut as the sound of squealing tires issues from further down the road, the driver presumably slamming on the breaks in a bid to regain control. I can't look, but since I don't hear a crash after a few seconds I assume that they're alright- thank goodness it's early enough that there isn't much traffic right now, and the road is a fairly straight one.

I sigh in relief, still keeping my eyes closed. That was close, for both me and the driver. As happy as I am that my power isn't gone after all, and that I finally have confirmation it actually exists and _works_ , I also was nearly flattened just now, which is rather concerning to say the least. Why did my power change from the mist generation to this? And why did it show up only now? That could have ended... badly, had I been two steps further forward when it reappeared.

Flipping the mental switch now present in my head, I peek one eye open and fix my eyes on a cloud drifting lazily overhead. My mind is telling me that the power's range is line of sight, and it works on anything that can be considered a "whole" object, so at least I can easily check that I truly turned it off.

When there's no sign of the cloud accelerating, I take that as a sign that I'm operating the power correctly, and am free to look at things again. It is at this point that realize across the street is the bus stop, which I almost managed to miss while walking here on autopilot. It's empty, as is the surrounding area- thank goodness, doesn't seem like anyone saw that.

Making sure to look _extremely_ carefully for cars this time, I cross the street and slump down on the bench.

Everything is fine. I'm fine. I'm not dead by way of power-accelerated car, and I'll be prepared next time if that happens again. I'm alive. All is well.

...I really need to figure out my powers. ASAP.

* * *

While it's nice to feel my power firmly nested within the center of my brain again, I can't really practice using it right now. I'm certainly not going to use it on any other cars, and while a bunch of conspicuously speedy clouds going overhead probably wouldn't cause anyone much concern, it might still draw attention I don't really want right now.

Frustrating, but that doesn't mean I can't accomplish anything constructive in the meantime. By the time the bus comes around, the notebook I started last night has a whole new page of notes, filled with new information my power, including the point at which I felt it beginning to fade away again. I estimate it as having started roughly five or six minutes after my power first reappeared, taking another three or so to fade away completely. This time however, I was awake to feel the bizarre sensation of the ability gradually slipping out of my mental grasp, leaving only the summary I'd gotten on how it functioned behind.

It was... weird to concentrate on while it happened. The best comparison I can really think of is gradually losing the ability to use my own arm, sensation disappearing from my awareness until it was just... gone. There's still a small "impression" where it was, like a phantom limb of the brain, but its presence is clearly missing now.

Seems as though my power doesn't stick around when it isn't needed, as I'd already theorized yesterday evening. That's... inconvenient, in that it means it's going to be very hard for me to practice with this, but at least now I feel pretty reassured that my power will eventually come back.

 _When_ exactly this might be is the problem I'm presently working on. My current working theory is that my power only appears when something endangers me, since that's the only connection I can see between Sophia and the car. But I only have two data points right now, so it's not really a well tested hypothesis, and since apparently my power isn't the same every time it shows up, there's clearly already more to this than I initially thought.

A smile worms its way onto my face as I step onto the bus. Complicated or not, at least I don't need to worry anymore. My powers are real. I have no reason to doubt myself anymore.

The bus ride itself ends up feeling interminably long, while my feelings on the vehicle's eventual destination are mixed. My whole left side is still a black and blue mess from going there on Monday, and the reasons for that mess clearly aren't going to deescalate anytime soon. But on the bright side, my Computer Science class has internet access, and since I'm usually left with a fair amount of free time in there, I'll hopefully have time for some more research. Considering what just happened, I'm fairly certain I need to do that. In fact, I think I'll head back to the library again after school.

As expected, the program we have to complete in first period turns out to be incredibly simplistic. I finish it in record time and immediately switch over to PHO to check on my board, which by now has more than a few replies. Honestly, it's not really all that important anymore, but I still want to see what people posted.

The overall response seem to be fairly mixedy. There's a bevy of replies from people speculating on just why I'm asking about this, as well as a couple posts by more helpful people that explain how some powers aren't entirely obvious at times, and that there are more than a handful of trumps whose powers don't really do anything unless someone else with powers is around. Someone from Brockton Bay- funny coincidence, that- even mentioned Dauntless, and how even he wasn't able to tell if his power was doing anything at first. Somewhat inspiriting for the me of yesterday, but nothing particularly helpful beyond that.

I almost click away, when my eye catches on something at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Users currently viewing this forum: Sound_and_Destination, TheEverAfter, Eidolon

* * *

...

...yeah, that has to be a fake. Hard to believe the mods would let anyone keep that name.

Ignoring that, I switch over to the power classifications board and check under "trump". According to the list, the category's umbrella falls over powers that have some kind of effect on the powers of others, and powers that change or vary depending on the circumstances or wishes of the user. As of this morning, the latter part of that description seems to fit mine fairly well.

Intrigued, I switch to researching trumps themselves. The vast majority of what I turn up involves Eidolon, which isn't much of a surprise. I feel a slight thrill at the idea of having a power even remotely similar to his, much weaker or not. As much as I'd call Alexandria my favorite cape, Eidolon is the definition of versatility, and is considered the most powerful cape in the world barring Scion. It's hard not to be pleased at the connection, minimal though it may be.

There are also a number of results I'm far less eager to compare myself to. One webpage in particular is a list of the most notorious trump villains alive, featuring such lovely people as Bonesaw, Occultation, and Glastig Uaine. I don't spend much time on that- the majority are capes most everyone already knows of anyways, for less than pleasant reasons.

I keep looking, and find a couple of articles on some of the Protectorate's flashier trumps, as well as a fair bit of news coverage on an independent hero group called Stardust. Purportedly, the group contains an inordinately large amount of trumps, and are commonly opposed by a villain group called The Subsumed, also containing a strangely high amount of trumps. What an interesting place that city must be.

Closer to home are the Empire 88 villains Victor and Othala, whose powers I already have some passing familiarity with. Though, I'm not exactly certain how Victor qualifies as a trump, since I've seen him described as a skill stealer, not a power stealer. Maybe he can steal a person's skill at using their own power? Nothing that I can find seems to say.

Hmm. While this is all interesting, there doesn't seem to be much information on Trumps as a group, as more than any other power type there isn't often much of a common thread between them. They vary too wildly to really say anything general about, meaning I'm pretty much on my own as to figuring out the limits and general workings of my power. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. I suspect most capes have to figure that sort of thing out on their own anyways.

The bell signaling the end of first period rings, and my heart sinks. My days only ever tend to get worse past this point.

Though, everyone has to have a good day eventually. Maybe, just maybe, today I'll finally have the luck to avoid the trio entirely.

* * *

' _Never, EVER think things like that._ ' I berate myself, mentally beating myself over the head as I slowly back away.

As if solely to hammer in why I should never make hopeful predictions in that vein, I have managed to run _directly_ into Emma and Sophia on my way to second period. Neither of them have a class near mine right now, so either they detoured on purpose to deliberately catch me early, or it's just supremely bad luck on my part.

Thankfully, they don't appear to have any of their hangers on around, and class is starting soon, so at least this will most likely be quick. As they begin to walk towards me, I flatted my expression and brace myself for whatever they're about to do.

But... they don't. Emma gives me a brief, somewhat odd glance, but doesn't follow up on it, instead simply looking away and continuing to walk. Sophia is audibly grinding her teeth together as she passes me by, but she doesn't interact with me either. Neither of them seem to pay me any further mind as they pass around the corner and out of sight.

That was strange all on its own, but when I walk into Mr. Gladly's class two periods later, I find more unexpected "good news" waiting- Madison is apparently absent today. Without her in class, no one seems to be particularly interested in messing with me, as it won't serve to help their social status. Thus, for once I'm left alone for second period.

Far from being relieving, this only serves to make me increasingly uneasy. For all my hopes about being lucky today, there was a calm before the storm with the locker as well, and even then they hadn't been ignoring me entirely. I have my doubts that Madison is truly as "absent" as it appears she is.

Mr. Gladly lets us out slightly early, trying to ingratiate himself to the popular kids as always, and I take the opportunity to zip out of the room as briskly as I possibly can without getting yelled at. Given Emma and Sophia's rare, and almost certainly temporary show of restraint earlier, I'm thinking they have something big in store. As such, it might be best for me to head to the emergency hiding spot I scoped out on Monday morning, before the stairs happened.

Said hiding spot is a small copse of trees out behind the back of the school. Outside, there shouldn't be anyone watching for me, thus there will be no one to send the trio in my direction, and no one to see where I plan on hiding. It's close enough that I can get there from the back of the gym in roughly ten seconds at a full sprint, leaving an extremely limited opportunity for anyone to see me, and most of the trunks are large enough to hide myself behind when looked at from the direction of the school. So long as I can get there quickly, I don't think anyone will be able to find me within the 10 minutes it'll take to eat my lunch. It isn't perfect- in fact, it's probably only going to work once- but anything is better than doing what I usually do right now, since they're probably expecting that.

This in mind, the second I turn the corner I break into a full on run, taking the fastest route to the gymnasium that I can while still avoiding any classrooms I know the trio's followers are still in. My breaths come heavy, my lungs burning with a desperate need for air.

' _Note to self- get in shape._ '

Thankfully, out of shape or not, no one looks to be running to follow me, something likely helped massively by Madison not having been in class. I make it to the gym just as the actual lunch bell rings, and immediately retreat through the backdoor.

No one is around outside right now, as I had expected and hoped. I cast a few glances behind me as I jog forward, making sure the door remains closed, before finally slipping behind a broad sided tree trunk. I lean against it's side, finally taking the chance to catch my breath.

Once my breathing rate stabilizes, I sit, look around one last time, and let out a sigh of relief. Made it. Out here, I should be safe. For the moment, at least.

I start to unpack my lunch-

"You know, it's actually kind of funny."

My head jolts up faster than a snapped rubber band. Before me stands Sophia Hess, arms crossed in front of her and with a flat, unmoving glare on her face.

Fuck. How did she get in front of me without me noticing? I ran as fast as I could, and got to the gym before the hallways could even fill up. Even if she's faster than me, I don't see how she could possibly have gotten here without me seeing her. Hell, I didn't even hear her approach- did she see me looking at this area on Monday morning and show up in advance, just _assuming_ I'd be here today?

"See, early on, Emma was the one with doubts. She had to push herself to drop you and the rest of her useless baggage, because she was _desperate_ to be a survivor. She forced herself to be strong, to not let herself fall back in with the rest of the sheep. But it was something she  needed, not something she enjoyed. At least at first, anyway."

My fear gives way to shock. What? Leaving aside the fact that Sophia is suddenly telling me this, Emma didn't _want_ to turn on me? I didn't... no, I can't get distracted, especially not when that could easily be a lie. I have no guarantee Sophia didn't spread around my hiding spot to anyone else- in fact, she almost certainly did. This is a trap, and I need to get out of it before anyone else arrives.

"Me?" Sophia continues. "I thought you were a little bitch from the moment I laid eyes on you. But after a while I had to admit, you're something special to take everything we dished out and keep getting back up."

I have no idea what the relevance of that amazingly backhanded compliment is, but as I try to subtly look around for an escape route, I start to notice the warning signs Sophia is giving off. Her voice is tight and controlled, but strained, like a line stretched taut, ready to snap at any moment. Her fists are clenched, her fingers biting into her palms. Her eyes stare into mine like a pyre come alive.

Shit. It's restrained for the moment, but she's out for _blood_.

"After a while it actually kinda impressed me. It was like some stupid, fucked up way of proving to us you could take it. I could almost respect that Hebert. Almost."

Something rushes to the center of my skull, and I can feel my power once more. I'm not left reeling this time, because I half-expected that to happen. It's back to the mist again. Apparently this is just what I get when facing Sophia- not that I can actually use it, lest I risk outing myself before I even have a hero identity, which means I'm just as defenseless as usual. Great.

"But that doesn't work forever. Everyone, every _thing_ has to stand up and fight when it has no other options left, and you honestly had me curious what it would take to get you to that point."

I stand up and step sideways, away from the tree. If I start sprinting now, could I make it back to the school? No, she'd catch me long before then, she's on the track team after all. This was a stupider hiding spot than I thought. I never even considered what would happen if I was found out, because I'd expected it to work at least _once_.

"What was it going to take to make you realize your position as cornered prey? When we finally forced you to that breaking point, how were you going to react? It's something I wondered every time we planned a prank for the last half a year."

As fascinating as it is to hear just how creepily obsessed Sophia is with making my life miserable, I've never known her to talk this much at length. She's building up to something, probably soon, so if I'm going to get out of here I need to do it _now_ -

"Well, I have my answer."

Sophia sneers, baring her teeth in a grimace.

"You _won't_. You _never will_. And that  disgusts me."

I see it coming, but still fail to dodge her kick, which comes so hard and fast I that don't even register the pain until I've already collapsed to the ground.

"I was right from the start! You don't even **deserve** to be called prey!" Sophia rages, continuing to smash her foot into me. "Even prey fights back when it has no choice, but you, YOU decided to sit back and passively accept it all, just like you're doing now!"

Desperately, I curl up into a ball, already in tears from the kick she landed to my pre-bruised side. Despite myself, I'm practically in shock. It really shouldn't be so surprising, but Sophia has never been _this_ outright violent before.

"You're not prey, you're less than that! You're the _ground_ beneath the other sheep, there solely for others to grind their feet in to, because you refuse to even ATTEMPT to help yourself! It's SICKENING!"

I have to get away, any second now she's going to break something, she's aiming for my face, fuck she really is trying to kill me this time-!

Abruptly, the kicking and the screaming both stop.

"...no fucking way."

Sophia's tone is that of utter disbelief. I scramble to my feet as fast as I can, fairly certain my only chance of escape is while she's busy staring at-

Me. She's still staring at me.

Or, more specifically, the misty gray haze currently pouring out of my nose, my ears, my _pores_ , clouding around my face and upper body.

My power kicks in as some sort of automatic defense?! Shit! Why hadn't I known it could do that?! I should have known that! Of all the people to see-

"You're a fucking _cape_?!" Sophia grits out, her eyes nearly slits, teeth clenched so hard they look as if they might break.

I don't bother to confirm it for her, instead just forcing the mist away from myself as I turn and run away from the school.

She doesn't follow.

* * *

About half an hour later, I find myself back at the library.

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here. Maybe I subconsciously drifted back to my intentions of coming here later today for further research? I'm not really feeling as excited as I was before, so that doesn't exactly appeal to me right now. But at least this plush library chair provides me with a nice, comfy place to nurse my injuries and quietly have a breakdown.

Sophia's final statement flashes through my mind again, as it did 30 other times on the way over here, and I almost choke on a laugh. If I'm a cape, then I'm a horrible, horrible one, who got found out all of two days after gaining powers, to the person I trust least in the world to keep it secret. I've never heard of a cape screw it up that badly, that quickly, so maybe I don't even qualify.

Emma almost certainly knows by now. Sophia isn't going to keep this from her if she sees anything exploitable about it, and given how secret powers are generally supposed to be, there most certainly is. Madison will know by the end of the day, even if she really wasn't present at school. And with my secret in the hands of _those_ three, I'm doomed.

Well, I still have my bookbag at least. I never got a spare moment to take it off before Sophia showed up, so they don't have my journal, and the whole two pages I wrote in it about my power. Or my schoolbooks, for that matter.

I laugh bitterly at the inanity of that thought. Yeah, because school is going to be such an issue now. Considering the locker incident, along with the fact that today Sophia went from "shoves and trips" to "actual assault", I have little doubt the trio will be perfectly willing to escalate further. And I just handed them everything they could possibly need to do so. I expect I'll find the PRT knocking down my door when I get home, sent by some story concocted by Emma and Sophia about how I attacked them with my powers outside the school and then ran off, probably with "injuries" or destroyed property to match it. The media will probably follow, going along with whatever sham they came up with to paint me as the villain, rather than the victim.

Maybe if I'm lucky, the trio will just hold this as blackmail over my head for eternity. But that doesn't really seem their style, so I highly doubt it. They're set on ruining my life, or possibly just taking it at this point, so blackmail almost certainly isn't _enough_ for them.

I briefly consider simply announcing myself to the public before they can, but almost immediately discard the idea. As if New Wave's story wasn't enough to sour me on the thought, I'd seen plenty of other anecdotes about unwillingly revealed capes that ended far worse. Outed parahumans, especially unaffiliated ones, tend to end up either immediately press ganged in to nearby villain groups, or dead. New Wave only fared so well because they're a team, a family, and heroes to boot. As opposed to me, alone, with only my dad for support, and with incredibly fair-weather powers that I haven't managed to intentionally use even once as of yet. I wouldn't last a day.

Should I go to the PRT myself? If the trio is going to try to turn them on me, which seems extremely likely, getting my side of the story to them first is important. My injuries might add credence to the truth, though I don't really trust that to be enough to convince them, considering how well the authorities handled the last clear cut issue I presented to them. But maybe...

A thought stills me, and I check my pockets.

Great. I can't even _get_ to the PRT headquarters with the single bus ride's worth of fare I have on me right now. Not without having to walk at least another half hour on top of that, and by that point it'll probably be too late, assuming it isn't already. Maybe I can try to catch a ride from someone? No, that's an absolutely terrible idea in a city like this, what on Earth am I thinking...

I let out a cough, followed by a sigh. Oh, what's even the point? Realistically, it's more than likely the PRT has already been alerted one way or other. I didn't bother to stopper the flow of mist until I was two streets away from the school, so anyone who saw the fairly obvious trail I left behind could have called me in. Maybe they didn't see my face behind the cloud of mist I'd been constantly creating, but they still saw me, and even without Sophia I doubt it will take an investigation too long to narrow down who was in attendance at Winslow this morning, and who now no longer was.

Fleeing the city wouldn't even work, not that I really considered it an option to begin with. I'd never get out of town before being caught, not with Velocity and Battery around, and that would just make me look guilty in the long run. I'm just going to have to hope that the PRT isn't so gullible as to take everything at face value, or, failing that, that I can get a fair trial to try and absolve myself of whatever they try to pin me with.

...which, unfortunately, means the best choice I can make is probably to go home. I'll be arrested the moment I get there, but if it looks like I was trying to hide, it'll only hurt me more later. It's the defeatist's way of looking at things, but I really don't see any other options here. This is the only realistic one I can think of that has even a _possibility_ of my not going to juvie. Or worse...

I push that thought out of mind. Come to think of it, I now need to tell my dad about my powers as soon as possible, before he finds out by way of armed officials knocking at our door. Assuming someone didn't already call him about it at work, that is.

I take a deep breath, followed by several more deep breaths, and wipe the tear trails from my face before standing.

Time to face the music.

* * *

I get all the way to the same bus stop I was nearly run over at this morning before I realize either my assumptions were wrong, or that I have perhaps been overreacting. There's no sign of the vans or vehicles I'd expected to see coming my way, nor anyone that appears to be on watch. The area seems just as relatively quiet as ever, which is unnerving, if somewhat encouraging. Still, I hold my breath as I turn the corner onto my street...

Nothing. No sign of the PRT, no heroes here to take me in. One of my older neighbors is out sticking something in his mailbox, but otherwise the street is perfectly deserted. Everything looks exactly like I'd usually expect it to.

I take a moment to process this, before rushing towards my house. This was extremely unexpected, but in a positive way. I can't exactly _relax_ , but at the very least, none of the authorities have gotten here yet. At best, maybe even the trio isn't so dedicated to ruining my life that they'd use my having powers against me.

...who am I kidding? Best case, Sophia is still talking over with Emma and Madison exactly how to use "Hebert's a parahuman" to best screw me over. In which case, my highest priority should be getting a call out to the PRT, ASAP.

I unlock the door and run inside, dumping my bag at the door as I try to think of what I'm going to say. I'll almost certainly have to reveal who I am at the very least, but hopefully that won't mean I'll have to become a Ward. Though, if that's what it takes to preempt potential slander bad enough to irrevocably ruin me, I'll still take it over the alternative.

I sigh at the thought as I made my way upstairs. I don't exactly have the PRT's number memorized, but I'm pretty sure it's listed on a city standard emergency card I have in my room somewhere. If I can't find that, I'll have to break out the phonebook. Honestly, I'm not quite sure why they don't just have an easy to remember number like 911, but-

My train of thought cuts off as I open the door to my room, and find one more person in it than I had expected.

I stare.

Sophia stares back, slowly beginning to grin.

* * *

AN: Well this escalated quickly.


	3. Complications 1-3

Sophia.

Here. In my bedroom. Lounging on my sheets, in fact.

"Wha- what..." I manage to stutter out.

"Well well. Look who's home." Sophia says, almost casually. "Was wondering when you were finally gonna stop moping around and show up."

How the hell did she even get in?! The house was locked, and the windows are too high to climb into! There isn't even a spare key for her to find!

My mist power abruptly coalesces back into existence. Not much of a surprise, considering it had shown up both other times I'd felt threatened by Sophia, and this time she was in my fucking _house_.

"Don't worry, your dad is still at work for a while, right?" Sophia continues. "Plenty of time to have ourselves a little _chat_."

The last word is punctuated with a stab of anger, and I prepare myself to move, to run. Thankfully, Sophia does nothing more than stand up from the end of the bed, not yet making any movement in my direction, and thus I begin inching my way backwards towards the still open door. As inwardly furious as I am at the invasion of my home, my only safe place, confronting Sophia here and now is not likely to end in my favor, given that she's apparently been _waiting_ for me.

"So, guess what, Hebert?" Sophia asks, a quiet rage settling into her voice, seething just below the surface of each word. "You just broke my probation. Know what that means?"

I'm pretty sure it's impossible for me to have broken her probation, whatever that was even in reference to, but keeping her talking and distracted is important anyways right now. Before I can ask her what she's implying however, she answers her own question.

"It means that now, the _fucking_ Protectorate's after me."

I start at that, despite myself. What?

"Bet you're happy about that, huh? You spineless little wimp." Sophia accuses. "Can't fight your own battles, so you do this instead? It's a pretty good 'fuck you', I'll give you that."

I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about.

"...The Protectorate?" I ask, cautiously. "How... why are they involved...?"

Sophia's expression falls into a sort of gape for a moment, before she throws her head back and cackles, sounding halfway to madness. "You didn't even do this on purpose?! Oh WOW, that's truly impressive Hebert."

She laughs again and grins, her face falling back into that same cruel smile I've seen in many a nightmare. "Well, it's not like it'll matter much longer anyways."

My breath hitches as Sophia's right hand dips behind her, and pulls one of our kitchen knives from her back pocket.

"I'm going to make sure this is the _last_ time you ever fuck me over, after all."

I move. Sophia moves faster, springing at me like an uncoiling cat. I manage to backpedal out of her reach, and try to whirl around towards the door, only for her to duck low and sweep my feet out from beneath me, kicking the door shut with the same movement.

I land hard on my thankfully carpeted floor. Sophia straightens from her crouch and rises in front of me, her face a rictus of hate.

Well, it isn't as if I can reveal anything MORE to her at this point.

Before Sophia can act, mist leaks rapidly from beneath my fingernails and interposes itself between us like a semi-see through screen. Sophia quickly jinks around it, but I'm already adding more, the sheet of mist expanding to the left wall of my room just in time to cut her off again.

She moves around to the right, and I do the same thing, making sure the mist expands from floor to ceiling as the room becomes divided into two distinct sections. It's a good thing that manipulating this stuff is basically instinct, because the sum total of my prior practice amounts to roughly ten minutes of funneling it out of my own way as I ran down a sidewalk an hour or two ago.

"Fucking- what is this shit?!" Sophia growls angrily from the other side of the now foot-thick curtain of mist, ramming herself into it in an apparent bid to force her way through. Thankfully, my power is working as advertised, and no attempt she makes gets more than few inches in, no matter how hard she shoves. In response, I add even more to mist to the wall and begin expanding it backwards, pushing Sophia further into the other section of the room as I try to calm myself down. It's fine now, Sophia's trapped, there's nothing she can do to get to me. I just have to breathe... breathe...

My panic starts to subside as the screen of gray thickens to the point that I can't actually see through it, and Sophia's frustrated grunts of effort finally begin to die off. She won't be going anywhere anytime soon. I sigh with relief- Sophia's murder attempt failed.

Having spent the entire time building the mist barrier sitting on the floor, I finally, shakily get back to my feet and move to head back downstairs. Who am I supposed to even call in this sort of situation? There has to be someone appropriate, but-

"Sorry Hebert, but it's a bit too late for this." Sophia's voice snarls from somewhere behind the barrier, just before I can leave. " _Y_ _ou already gave up,_ **remember?!** "

Something moves in my peripheral vision, and I turn around just in time to see a black silhouette hurtling through my mist screen, completely unimpeded.

There isn't any time to truly comprehend what's happening before the dark shade breaks past my mist's inner border. Then the shade is suddenly Sophia, still moving at the same speed, and charging directly at me.

Her entire body slams into mine shoulder first, not unlike something a linebacker might do. Fortunately, Sophia does not have the weight of one, and most of the impact disperses on my arms, which I desperately crossed in front of myself just before being hit. I scramble a few scant feet backwards to avoid a kick from below aimed at my kneecap, even as my mind finally catches up with current events and the pieces begin rapidly coming together.

A cape. She's a cape. And her power... Shadow Stalker. Sophia is Shadow Stalker.

A ward. A _hero_.

A hero who tormented me for over a year, savagely attacked me earlier today, and is currently trying to murder me in my own home.

Sophia straightens up languidly from the crouch she'd fallen into, a malicious looking smirk on her lips. I frantically drill five concentrated jets of mist from my fingers towards her chest, only for her to immediately switch back to her shadow state. The jets pass right through her, not even slowing her down as she steps in front of me, changes back, and buries her left fist deep in my stomach.

The air vacates my lungs, but a hand grabs my hair and pulls upwards before I can fully double over, forcing me painfully to my feet. The knife flashes at her side, and Sophia grins sickly, her expression warring between triumph and hatred.

"Looks like you **lose** , Hebert."

A profound combination of terror and outrage swells within me, and mist all but _explodes_ out of my upper body, my pores momentarily engorging to the point that I feel like an oversized sponge. Sophia's grasp on my hair loosens as she's flung away, the sudden force tossing her towards my barrier. She switches to her shadow form before she can impact it, and flies back through unimpeded.

I let the mist I just expelled swirl around me as I gingerly touch my scalp, biting back the pain echoing through it. Okay, an edit to the plan seems to be in order- before I go anywhere or call anyone, I need to completely surround myself with mist. It'll be difficult to move in, since I'll have to constantly concentrate on pulling it along with me, but it should at least theoretically protect me. In her normal form, Sophia shouldn't be able to get past it, and as a shadow, she can't physically affect me. Or at least so said Shadow Stalker's wiki page.

Shadow Stalker. I'm still barely processing that little revelation- after I'm done fighting for my life, the reality of it will probably come crashing down on me like the fist of Behemoth, but right now all I really care about is surviving her efforts to kill me.

A human shaped patch of darkness bursts from the fog, running not at me this time, but at the door. I curse- it's closed, but that doesn't mean anything to someone who can phase right through walls. If she gets out, then I'll be trapped in here, unable to leave as she waits in ambush again, except on the opposite side of the door this time. I push the mist out of my way and move, my hand closing around the doorknob-

-and then something collides very solidly with my back, ramming me forward to smash my head into the door.

I slide down the wood, letting out a brief moan of pain. I scrabble to my feet as quickly as I can, but before I so much as manage to look at the door again, my shoulder is grabbed from behind and forcibly whirled around.

The shadow that is Sophia stares back at me. Her expression is impossible to make out, but her head is tilted, as if surprised.

What the- she isn't supposed to be able to-

Her fist impacts with my left shoulder, hard enough to send me stumbling back towards my dresser and away from the door. Sophia's silhouette doesn't follow, instead taking a moment to look at her fingers and flex each one of them individually, as if she's never used them before.

I grasp at the top of the dresser and come up with my alarm clock, a blocky piece of junk with the weight of a decently sized rock. I fling it at Sophia's head, figuring that if she can suddenly hit me in that state, then she can be hit as well. To my dismay, despite a throw so excellent I'm all but certain I'll never manage to replicate the feat, it passes right through her. She unfortunately takes that as an impetus to start moving again, closing in quickly and slamming her shadowy hand into my throat, driving me backwards to pin me against my room's front wall.

I thrash and bring my knee up into Sophia's stomach, knowing it's likely futile to try to hit her, but desperate to escape her grasp all the same. To my surprise, it impacts, and I feel something indescribable _through_ the fabric of my jeans. But if Sophia feels it, she doesn't show it, and her other hand flashes upwards, barely stopping before it hits me.

I cease struggling, my eyes locked on the long, pointed piece of blackness hovering mere inches away from my face.

"...huh..." the figure before me suddenly rasps. "...well, what do you know? A worthless power for a worthless person."

The voice is clearly Sophia's, but it's breathy, whispering, and tentative, like someone who hasn't spoken in years.

"Never gotten to choke a bitch while like this before." she continues, her voice gaining strength as she speaks. "Or talk, for that matter."

Her grip tightens, and I gasp, trying to draw in more air than I'm getting. Surprisingly, upon hearing that her hold readjusts, loosening back to a state I can breathe in, albeit uncomfortably.

"Oh no, you don't get to die just _yet_." Sophia growls. "Because I still want to know _why_. Why you make so little fucking sense, Hebert. So you're going to explain, here and now."

I can't concentrate at all on what she's saying, my mind too busy trying to understand the problem I was just presented with to even so much as try. Why the hell is Sophia, Shadow Stalker, able to physically touch me while in her breaker form when everything I've read on her says otherwise?! Given the little self-examination she did after colliding with me and what she said just now, this has to be something she can't usually do, but-

"I kicked the shit out of you because you didn't even move at the top of those stairs yesterday. You just accepted it and let yourself fall. Which is absolute _bullshit_. Even you have more survival instinct than that. There are fucking _bacteria_ with more survival instinct than that."

A horrible thought strikes me. My mist is only "solid" while I'm nearby, and completely non-interactive when I'm not. But that isn't a property of the mist itself, its proximity to _me_ is what allows it to become material to living things. My very presence causes an immaterial gas to act as a solid object. And if Shadow Stalker is inherently immaterial while using her power...

"So I have to assume that you just wanted death- that when you had no other options but to fight or to die, you chose die. And you know what, we already went over my stance on that. But this? This adds a whole new level of what the FUCK."

Sophia's fingers tighten their vice around my throat again, and I lose my train of thought as I cough up more dark grayish fog. My vision starts to blur- whether because of the mist, low light, or lack of air I'm not sure, but since I miraculously haven't yet lost my glasses, it has to be one of the three.

"See, apparently you're a cape _._ An actual goddamn cape, which should be impossible, because capes are supposed to be _survivors_. The ones who fight, claw past the shit they're in, and prove themselves worthy to keep living. Which you, as you've most _definitively_ proven, are _not_."

She brings her face closer to mine, forcing me to stare into the shifting, ovular haze of darkness it currently is.

"So how? How do you have powers, Hebert? How do you in ANY way qualify for them?!"

My mind whirls ever harder and faster as it searches for a potential means of escape. Doesn't she have a limit on how long she can keep this form up?! I can't remember seeing anything about that online, and she doesn't sound like she's under any significant strain-

Sophia growls, pulls me forward, and proceeds to slam my head into the wall. I feel the plaster fracture beneath me, and silently thank the shoddiness of the construction, since that could easily have cracked my skull open otherwise. As it is, I can still feel a wet spot forming on the back of my head- she did that hard enough to draw blood.

"I do actually expect an answer at some point." she spits.

"The-" I wheeze, barely able to talk through her hold on my neck and the pain in my skull. "Locker..."

Sophia seems almost taken aback for a moment.

"That? THAT was your trigger event?" she repeats incredulously. "That's BEYOND pathetic. I would have respected you somehow _fucking_ them out of Grue more than that. Only you could trigger off of something that stupid. No wonder all you got was this gray smoke shit."

My anger flares, despite my current situation. "You... you think YOU wouldn't have-!"

The rebuttal earns me a kick to my left leg. I let out a choked cry of pain, but the grip on my neck forces me to stay standing.

"Shut the fuck up. You're NOTHING." Sophia snarls. "You're a worm who somehow fluked into powers, and ones so useless that you can't fight back with them even now that you're actually _trying_ , at that. You don't deserve to be a cape. You don't deserve to be _anything_..."

The pointed piece of shade in her hand cocks back, as if for finality's sake, and I have a sudden flash of insight. I can't affect her with my mist, but-

"...except, perhaps, a **corpse**."

The shadowy arm strikes- as does my skull, forced forward against Sophia's grip by the mist I just leaked from my head wound and expanded behind it to create an improvised piston. The knife passes by harmlessly, as my forehead smashes into my tormentor's featureless face.

The loud cry of pain and the loosening of her grip that follow clearly indicate that she can at least be injured as a shadow, allowing me to break away and fling the door open. I throw myself down the stairs as fast as I can, dense swirls of mist continually leaking from my body to clog the hall behind.

It's possible that I just missed my best chance to take Sophia down, but she's stronger than I am, in possession of a knife, has a hell of a lot more fighting experience, and- most critically- has seemingly taken on the properties of my mist, at least for the time being. Even worse, while I'm not certain, I'm pretty sure my _own_ power is somehow the root cause of that last issue. Taken as a whole, that leaves me absolutely no way to effectively retaliate. I'm not about to try to fight her unarmed, but my mist can't be used to trap her, protect myself from her, or really do anything other than obscure her vision- assuming it's even doing _that._ All factors considered, the thought of trying to fight her head on right now seems like it would be nigh on suicidal.

I slide into the kitchen, flooding the area behind me with mist even as I scramble for the phone. To my surprise, an emergency card just like the one I'd gone looking for is sitting right next to the phone. I suppose it makes more sense to have it here than anywhere else, but I've never noticed, either because it's never been relevant before, or because I haven't really had anyone to call for the past year or so.

I hurriedly pick up the receiver, but immediately drop it and duck into the living room as a shadow phases through the ceiling and falls on to the kitchen island. I'd smack myself for not thinking about that possibility were it not for the noise it would make. In lieu of that, I inch behind the couch, diffuse what mist I have on hand to cover most of downstairs with a thin layer of it, and try to stay as quiet as possible.

"You know, for a moment I almost forgot how hard you so recently fucked me over." Sophia speaks, loud enough to reach anywhere in the house. "But then you _ran_ , and I remembered I have more than one reason to kill you. So if you think I'm leaving while you're still breathing, you're dreaming."

I still have no idea what exactly she thinks I did, but it makes little difference given that she's clearly already gone off the deep end. At least whatever it was apparently made her angry and talkative enough that I can tell she's still in the kitchen for the moment. My mist is getting thicker and more opaque over time the more of it that I pump into the air, so if I can just hide for long enough, I'll be able to cut off vision within the house entirely, at which point I can hopefully sneak out through the window. Failing that, maybe I can at least get the jump on Sophia... not that I think that'll do me much good.

If only I had some way to actually hurt, or even affect her that doesn't amount to beating on her bare handed. Does Shadow Stalker have any weaknesses? It's been confirmed that she can't stall inside solid objects, but I can't _make_ her do that, and right now I'm not certain that's even an issue for her. Isn't there anything else? Shadow Stalker's official power description claimed that she's immune to pretty much _everything_ in her shadow form, so what am I supposed to do...?

Footsteps- oddly heavy ones considering that Sophia is presently a living shadow- draw close to the couch. That's not good, especially given how awful my hiding space is. Distraction, I need a distraction-

In the doorway leading to the hallway across the room, I open a pocket of mist just large enough for someone to stand in, placing a thicker, darker, vaguely humanoid shaped patch of mist in its center. I silently pray that Sophia is looking in that direction, and that the mist is doing a good enough job obscuring things that my very rough decoy can be mistaken as me, because if not, then I have nowhere to-

The footsteps stop, replaced by the sound of someone landing from a jump near the hallway. This is immediately followed by the sound of yelling.

"Really? Fucking **really**?!"

Damn it, she took the bait, but that distraction did not last nearly long enough. My house isn't large enough to play an extended game of hide and seek with a murderous cape in. I need time to get all this mist in the air, time which I do not-

There's a thump that causes the floor beneath me to vibrate, and a shadowy arm slashes down through the back of the couch towards my legs. I reflexively drew them up to my chest, barely avoiding the knife as it withdraws, and Sophia silently passes through the couch to stand above me in the cramped bit of space.

She swings the knife down again, this time at my stomach. Getting out of the way in time seems impossible, especially given that I have to move the mist behind me out of my way first, but somehow I manage it. I don't give Sophia the chance to lunge before pulling all the mist in the house to us, instantly blanking sight for the entire room- since she's already found me, there's no point in having it anywhere else.

I whisk the mist behind me away and tiptoe back towards where I hope the door to the hallway is. This is essentially my last remaining gambit, and it isn't a good one. Sophia can move effortlessly through this, so it isn't going to take her long to just run through the rather small room in its entirety. I can't risk making noise, so the phone is out, and if I run into a wall I'm dead. My only hope at this point is to get out of here as fast and as quietly as possible, and hope she keeps searching the rest of the house long enough for me to run away.

A frustrated growl issues from somewhere nearby, FAR too close for my liking. Though, anywhere in this fog is too close for my liking.

"Okay, this cat and mouse bullshit is...!"

Sophia's voice dies off mid-sentence for some reason, and from the same direction comes a sound I can only assume is some sort of cough. Apparently she DOES need to breathe in that form, though I have no idea how that works.

"Is... what... what the fuck...?"

Her voice sounds weirdly... strained. Exertion?

I hear another sound, not movement this time, more like someone falling to their hands and knees, followed by a very strange sort of gasping. What is this? A trick? A lure? That doesn't make much sense; is she actually...

"...air... how..."

Air? What, is she having breathing issues?

After another couple seconds of gasping, I decide to chance a look, figuring that Sophia has next to no reason to fake this sort of thing, and funnel just enough mist upstairs to raise the visibility of the room by a fractional amount. It's still like trying to see underwater in a peat bog, but the dark blob in the center of the room- all of ten feet away- is unmistakable as anything else. She's turned away from me, down on the ground, shuddering and making strangled noises in whatever she has that currently passes for a throat.

Huh... I guess she really is having some sort of issue breathing right now. But why? Is my mist starting to interfere with whatever process usually provides her with oxygen while she's like this? Or maybe because it isn't usually able to enter or pass through living things, it's interacting badly with Sophia's current state of matter? She certainly didn't seem all that bothered by it upstairs, but the mist there wasn't this dense, and she didn't stay in it for very long. Right now, the mist is essentially all pervasive- is that what makes the difference? Without any knowledge about what Shadow Stalker is normally vulnerable to, I have no way of knowing if this is a weakness I didn't realize was one, or just some sort of weird power interaction.

After shuddering one last time, Sophia finally seems to rally her strength and jumps out of her crouch from all fours. Her leap takes her directly through the wall leading to the backyard, and out of the house.

I am very abruptly left alone in the living room, the room silent aside from my own breathing. I stand there, stunned, fairly sure that I somehow just managed to accidentally force Sophia to retreat.

...then again, retreating doesn't mean she's actually left. I need to hurry and call someone, anyone, before she comes back even madder than before.

I turn towards the now barely visible kitchen doorframe and stumble over to it, cutting a giant hole through my mist to move through. My fingers grab uselessly at the phone for a few moments before I finally gather enough coordination to actually pick it up. My digits continue to betray me for several more seconds, sweat making them slip uselessly over the keys, before I manage to dial in the number on the emergency card.

"PRT hotline, state your business."

"Shadow Stalker just tried to kill me." I blurt out.

"Come again? Shadow Stalker is a Ward-"

"I know that." I babble over the voice, desperate to finish the call in case Sophia comes back. "She attacked me at school earlier, and when I got home I found her waiting in my room, with one of our kitchen knives..."

There's a reply, a question of some sort, but for some reason my brain refuses to parse it. Now that the immediate threat has passed, my adrenaline is quickly waning, and I'm starting to feel woozy. I keep talking, but either I'm hearing myself wrong or my voice is starting to slur. Everything hurts.

The phone slips from my grasp as I fall to my knees. No, can't sleep right now, Sophia could still be outside, can't-

* * *

AN: I told you I wasn't going to make this easy on her. Sorry Taylor.

Hmm. Sophia is a pretty awful person, but she's not usually THIS unhinged. I wonder what's going on...?


End file.
